


it's better to be held than holding on

by rakkausjuoma (l0velikeoxygen)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l0velikeoxygen/pseuds/rakkausjuoma
Summary: “Seriously, I'm broke," Mingyu emphasises, raising his eyebrows for effect. “I just had to decide between buying condoms or toothpaste.”“Well, what did you choose?” Junhui asks.“Condoms, duh. I don't want to get pregnant,” he answers.Wonwoo coughs slightly. “I was waitingfartoo long for a ‘just kidding’ there, Gyu,” he says.-(AKA - Mingyu, Wonwoo, and Junhui get a new roommate.)





	it's better to be held than holding on

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings** \- a lot of sexual references, crude humour, drug use, a very dysfunctional relationship and a suicide attempt (unsuccessful). this makes it sound a lot darker than it actually is, but please be cautious.
> 
> title from "she's in the rain" by the rose.

**1**

“I have literally no money, guys,” Mingyu declares. As per usual, neither Wonwoo or Junhui lift their heads to greet him like _normal_ people do. Instead, Wonwoo mutters something under his breath about _Mingyu slamming the door so hard that it feels like an earthquake_ , but Mingyu goes selectively deaf when it comes to his slightly unfair use of strength. He just thinks Wonwoo is bitter that he'll never win an arm wrestle against him. 

Mingyu sighs, shoving down the plastic bags of groceries that he just collected onto the table. Really, Wonwoo _can't_ complain because, after all, Mingyu just went out in the rain to collect his off-brand Cocoa Pops and weird-tasting oat milk. His hair is stuck to his cheeks and his poor choice of a non-waterproof coat means that he's soaked straight through to the bone. He just _hopes_ Junhui hasn't used up all the hot water in one of his four hour long soaks with all the fancy herbal shit that he buys instead of deodorant, meaning that there's been more than one occasion that Joshua has accused them of hooking up because Junhui steals _his_ Lynx.

Anyway, Mingyu has no money. None of them do - not enough, definitely. The rent wrings them and leaves them to dry. 

“Seriously,” Mingyu emphasises, raising his eyebrows for effect. “I just had to decide between buying condoms or toothpaste.”

“Well, what did you choose?” Junhui asks.

“Condoms, duh. I don't want to get pregnant,” he answers. He begins to unpack their shopping - it's mainly just instant noodles, homebrand tomato soup and the cheap, gross beer that is always, for some reason, on sale. 

Wonwoo coughs slightly. “I was waiting _far_ too long for a ‘just kidding’ there, Gyu,” he says. He lifts his head up from where he was leaning almost completely over his notebook. So much so, in fact, that he looked like he was sleeping when Mingyu came back in. Probably was. “Do they even sell condoms at Aldi?”

“Yes, duh,” Mingyu sighs, exasperated. “Although the slimy lube that's on them makes my dick feel numb.”

“Did a girl recommend them to you, perchance?” Junhui asks, stifling laughter. He and Wonwoo share a strange glance that leaves Mingyu feeling out of the loop. So what? Does it matter?

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, slowly. Wonwoo snatches a cereal bar straight from his hands and peels off the wrapper in a split second, sinking his teeth into it before Mingyu can even get a word in edgeways. “Why?”

“They stop you from coming too fast, dude,” he chuckles, although trying to stifle his laughter at the same time. “Do you suffer from premature ejaculation, Mr. Kim?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “My cock is perfectly normal. Some would say _better_ than normal, for your information.”

“And those very rare few,” Wonwoo completes, “are big supporters of the RNIB.”

“Just say blind, twat,” Mingyu sighs. “You've seen my cock. It's not bad, right?”

Junhui yawns, throwing his magazine halfway across the living room floor due to having the attention span of a five-year-old after eating a pound of gummy worms. Mingyu shoots him a glance and, reluctantly, he picks it up and shoves it into a drawer, ripping the front page as he does so. “Your cock is decent, yep,” Junhui answers. “But I don't feel _special_ for having seen it, ‘cos every party with you always ends up devolving into some sort of strange strip tease where nobody wants you to get naked.”

“Plenty of people want to see me naked,” Mingyu insists, “but you're missing the point. Maybe we should get another roommate and someone can share their room. I call dibs on it not being me.”

“Dibs,” Wonwoo adds.

“Great. Well, Junhui, time for somebody to see _your_ cock,” Mingyu says, tacking on a _virgin_ at the end, just to be vindictive. 

Junhui simply laughs and says, “No fucking way, Gyu.”

**2**

Junhui's original stance on another roommate changes completely when Wonwoo introduces the other two to Minghao, a twenty-year-old dropout with fifteen piercings total who is _temporarily_ \- he insists on that time phrase being added - working as a cashier in Sainsbury's. 

“So, are you, like, bourgeoisie?” Mingyu asks. To him, anything above Asda in the supermarket food chain is fancy as fuck, including - but not limited to - Sainsbury's. To him, if you shop at Waitrose, you're pretty much royalty. 

Minghao simply rolls his eyes and answers, “I’m a communist, dumbass.”

(It's probably at _that_ exact point where Junhui comes in his pants. Suck on your “premature ejaculation” jab, Wen.)

“So, like, what does that mean?” Mingyu asks. Forgive him. Or don't. Wonwoo says he doesn't, but he has a soft spot for Mingyu that means anything dumb he says is immediately cancelled out by the fact that through it all, Mingyu has more good qualities than bad. He genuinely gives a shit about everybody and works hard, which is quite different to his other friends; Jihoon, who doesn't give a shit about most people, and Jeonghan, who doesn't work hard. 

Wonwoo slides open their front door, shooting Mingyu an incredulous look for asking such a question, but the lock is sticky and his attempt at shoving it with his shoulder makes it seem as though Wonwoo has the upper body strength of a snail. 

Junhui trails behind, practically licking the track marks that Minghao leaves in his wake, mud caked in his oversized boots, and doesn't contribute to the conversation. 

“Do you genuinely not know what a communist is?” Minghao laughs. His black hair is curly, making him look a million times more sweet and innocent than this conversation has led Mingyu and Wonwoo to believe. “Either way, this place is…” He spies the stack of DVDs, some shitty pirated copy of _Ichi the Killer_ on top, the poster of Shoo from SES stuck onto the wall with sellotape, and the box of tissues plonked on the coffee table in the centre of the room. Minghao laughs. “Do you all wank off together in here?”

“‘Course not,” Wonwoo says. “Why? Is that what you did in your last place?”

Minghao shakes his head slowly, examining a small cat figurine that Junhui brought home from his hometown and placing it gently back down on the drawers. “No. We just passed around a copy of Busty Babes and took turns,” Minghao deadpans. “Just kidding. I didn't wank off in that place.”

“Huh? Why not?” Mingyu inquires.

“Spores,” he answers, cryptically. “So, who am I sharing the room with?”

“Our Junnie,” Mingyu says, cheerfully. He pinches Jun's cheeks. “You're a fashionable guy, right, Minghao?”

“Somewhat,” he mutters, fidgeting with his studded belt. “Why?”

“Please can you tell Jun that his haircut's a piece of shit,” Wonwoo begs. 

Minghao simply smiles, the corners of his lipgloss-smeared lips turning up. He runs a hand through Junhui's hair, black nail polish glittering as he does, and considers. It's a bit long, kind of shaggy and probably in need of a good shampoo. Still, though, Minghao observes, “You look like Kim Heechul.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” Junhui asks, his heart thumping in his chest as Minghao twirls a strand of hair around his skinny finger.

Minghao shrugs. “Makes me kinda wanna suck your dick.” It's so casual that he might as well be talking about the weather or something equally as middle-aged and uninteresting. 

Junhui, who is not usually so shy, turns bright pink. “Okay, sign the paperwork, you _have_ to stay,” Junhui blurts out. “Or not. Whatever you want.”

“I know what I want,” Minghao says. “Sure thing, Junnie.”

**3**

Wonwoo is woken up at two in the morning with Jeonghan sitting on the edge of his bed, smoking a cigarette with a ribbon tying a section of his hair back. His face is red and his eyes are a bit puffy. He's been crying, but, more importantly, how did he even get in their apartment? He knows he won't have the opportunity to ask.

“What's up, Han?” he asks. Jeonghan sniffles loudly.

“I took ecstasy,” he admits. “I took ecstasy and locked myself out of my apartment and now it's wearing off and I'm pretty certain I’m having about fifty heart attacks.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” Wonwoo says, for no reason in particular. He scrambles for his glasses on his bedside table and suddenly becomes very aware of the music spilling in from the other room. “How much did you take?”

“Not a lot. Cheollie gave it to me and I'm pretty sure we had sex in a public bathroom,” Jeonghan sobs. “Is this what my life is? I'm twenty-two, Wonwoo! I've finished university - and - and _this_ is what I'm doing with my life.”

The music grows louder. Wonwoo tries to ignore it. 

“I work in fucking McDonald's! What the fuck?” Jeonghan adds, dramatically.

A notch louder. The glass of water on Wonwoo's side table is wobbling around visibly. 

Jeonghan takes a shuddering breath. “Is that Jun? I thought he slept like a rock,” he says, softly. He sniffs. “Also, when did you start putting candles everywhere? And herbs - I don't know what they are, just general witchy shit.”

“No,” Wonwoo sighs. “It's our new roomie. He doesn't understand how to be normal. He puts his dildos in the dishwasher and owns an accordian.”

“Oh. Can you tell him to shut the fuck up?” Jeonghan asks.

“No problemo,” Wonwoo says. Languidly, he strolls to their bedroom door and knocks on it loudly. No response. Usually, he's against entering peoples’ rooms without knocking first, but either Minghao is purposefully ignoring him to be contrary or he simply can't hear over the unpleasant death metal he's blasting. Knowing Mingyu, this is probably relaxing to him, so that's why he wouldn't complain. Plus, he's too nice for that.

He knocks again. _Fucking hell_ , he thinks. He wraps his hand around the door handle and sees something he doesn't want to see.

“I was doing it for your own good,” Minghao says, almost instantly. He stands up, dressed in a shirt that is long enough to be oversized but still way too short to be worn on its own, and turns the volume down on his radio. He's wearing liquid eyeliner and has his hair tied back into a small ponytail. “Jun, put your fucking dick away.”

Oh, and red lipstick. Red lipstick smeared up his cheeks and onto...Junhui’s anatomy. Classy.

“But I haven't come yet,” Junhui whines. 

Leaning on his door frame with one hand and another on his hip, Minghao blows his fringe out of his eyes and says, “Boys, huh?”

He slams the door shut. Wonwoo curses God for giving him a house with extremely thin walls, and regrets making him turn the music down. When he returns to his room, Jeonghan has remarkably fallen asleep with a burning cigarette still in his hand. Wonwoo stubs it out in the Hello Kitty ashtray, which was an odd find, and shuffles off to sleep on the sofa as to not piss off Jeonghan.

**4**

“Welcome to fuckin’ Sainsbury's,” Minghao says, with a smile. It's odd to see him not dressed up in several different shades of purple, red and black, let alone with layers of fishnet covering every exposed piece of flesh or jewellery in every single piercing he has. Keeping it simple, he has a slight amount of pink eyeshadow on with a nose ring. For Minghao, that's practically nunnery. It's kinda nice.

Junhui doesn't shop at Sainsbury’s. He actually doesn't have anything he really needs to buy, but snatches a bag of jelly beans and Diet Coke from the aisles and places it on the conveyor belt where Minghao is currently having an argument about a sale on milk or something. He waits for ten minutes until Minghao even acknowledges him.

“After this, maybe we should go out,” Junhui suggests, a little eager. “...You look nice, by the way.”

“Thanks. I look like a fucking virgin.”

Junhui shakes his head. “No, really,” he insists. “I like you in any way, though. Not in a sexual way -” He pauses, feeling a little guilty as he makes direct eye contact with a scandalized mother holding her hands over her child’s ears. “ - but, y'know, with or without makeup. Are you wearing eyeshadow?”

“No,” he says, very smoothly. “I got an eye infection because Soonyoung came on my face.”

“On _both_ eyes?”

“He's very eager,” he states. Even when he's saying the most vulgar things, he doesn't even seem edgy or nervous. He could probably do a dramatic reenactment of that tentacle porn Mingyu secretly puts in perfectly regular DVD cases without even breaking a sweat. “That'll be £1.80.”

“That's extortionate,” Junhui says, handing the change over. Minghao smiles knowingly, but he shrugs nonetheless.

“If you want to ask me if you can come on my face, you don't have to go to my work. We live together. Healthy roommate communication.” He hands over Junhui's change. “You want to say something. What is it?”

“Nothing,” Junhui mutters. “Hey, you know that gross porn Mingyu likes?”

“What? With the anime girls with big tits?”

“Yeah. Do you want to watch it with me when you get home?”

“Sure thing,” he answers. 

**5**

Soonyoung comes over that evening with banana loaf. A little strange, but they divide it between the five of them and serve it with beer. In no way is it a meal, of course, but Mingyu ate the last leftovers from their pizza last night - although he refuses to admit it - and other than that, there's only lemon juice and dish soap. 

Junhui selects a seemingly innocuous DVD and shoves it in the player, banging it a couple of times with his fist until the picture shows up on the TV screen. Just as Minghao aptly described, the title screen is of a girl with - unsurprisingly - big breasts. It's kind of gross, and Mingyu turns bright pink. 

“I think you put on the wrong thing,” Mingyu mumbles. Crumbs fall out of his mouth. “Aren't we meant to be watching _Shawshank Redemption_?”

“Nah, I wanna watch this,” Soonyoung says. He scrambles around in his plastic bag until he pulls out a small bag of weed. “Do you think if we smoke this, this hentai will be more or less weird?”

“More, hopefully,” Minghao says, reaching over to grab it from Soonyoung’s hands. “Turn the lamp on, Junnie. I can't see what I'm doing.”

“Coming from you, that was an oddly non-confrontational demand,” Wonwoo comments. Minghao meets his eyes and scoffs. His lip ring glistens with saliva. “Have you got feelings, baby Hao?”

“That's none of your business,” he answers. “And don't call me that.” His tone is strangely authoritative. Wonwoo does what he's told, but he thinks it's strange how he'll talk so openly about sex and not love. 

“How's Jeonghan, by the way?” Soonyoung asks. “Josh told me he's been considering becoming a nudist again. He says, ‘I might have to lock him up before he becomes a flasher for real this time,’ and I didn't really know how to respond, so I just said _Americans_ and sort of fell asleep on the bus back home. That was a good thing, though, ‘cos I ended up going to this church service and then met Vernon.”

“Who's Vernon?” Mingyu asks.

“Just this guy,” Soonyoung says. “He wants to be a rapper, but his mum won't let him. I listened to his tape and, to be honest, it's not god-awful. Also, he deals weed.”

“And how old is he?”

“Seventeen, I think,” Soonyoung hums, unsure. “But I gave him Kwan's number, ‘cos his dad owns that studio in London, right?”

“...Your logic is seriously flawed, Soonyoung,” Junhui comments. “Fuck, that creature comes so fucking much. Mingyu?”

“No comment,” he replies. 

Minghao tucks his nose into Junhui's collarbone after blowbacks. When the night is over - by that, he means when Soonyoung passes out and watching hentai just becomes vanilla entertainment - Junhui carries him to bed (he’s unsurprisingly light) and falls asleep a bit later, mind foggy with thoughts of tentacles and Soonyoung’s rapper friend(?).

**6**

Wonwoo thinks it's a good - or bad, depending - sign when Minghao stops going out _every_ night and instead stays in every other night to watch Masterchef on TV with Junhui and eat chocolate cereal. Whatever their relationship is, though, it doesn't excuse the noises that Minghao can produce. Besides, they've definitely dented the wall with the amount of movement.

Mingyu is, yet again, oblivious. He thinks foot rubs are a romantic gesture because everything from holding hands to banging is inherently sexual to him. Feet are pretty much the only unexplored territory - for good reason, he thinks - and so when he sees Junhui massaging Minghao’s skinny little size 5 feet, he asks quietly, “Are they...?” Like it hasn't been so fucking obvious from the start that Junhui's madly in love with Minghao.

“I don't know,” he mutters back. Junhui shushes them loudly so he can hear the details of some fruit soufflé and Wonwoo drags Mingyu to the bathroom. Their boiler is bust, so it's freezing cold, yet quiet.

“I think we need to start fucking to balance out the amount of sexual energy in this apartment,” Wonwoo jokes. Mingyu blushes. “Just kidding. Besides, don't you have a girlfriend now? I keep finding thongs in the laundry basket.”

“Those aren't mine, or my imaginary girlfriend’s,” Mingyu chuckles. “Fuck, dude. Probably Minghao. His pillows are covered in makeup.”

“I like that about him,” Wonwoo mutters. “Like, he so blatantly doesn't give a shit that I think he secretly does care a whole fucking lot. If he weren't so - well, full on, we might get on better. Although,” he comments, “I knew him before he lived here. After all, I was the one who told him about this place. He's sort of a mutual friend. See, he was such a cute kid when he moved from China, apparently. One day, he just started wearing tights and high heels and making his way through the entire campus.”

“...Fuck.”

“Yeah, but he's calmed down a _lot_. Seriously. He doesn't even talk about Cheol anymore, which is probably good for Han,” Wonwoo suggests. “I kind of thought they'd fight about it, but I don't think Minghao has ever really felt much at all for anybody _but_ Jun. Like, Jun is obvious when he's in love, all glittery Valentine's cards in January and foot rubs, but I just think Minghao’s scared of being serious.”

“What about you, Agony Aunt?” Mingyu laughs. “You spend all your life fixing people's problems, but never your own.”

“I don't have any _real_ problems. Well, other than lab reports and my part-time job.” He shrugs. “Do you? Have problems, I mean?”

“Not really,” he sighs. “Kind of, but that's not your responsibility to think about. I kind of want to watch Masterchef now, too.”

**7**

Minghao dips his head around the crack in Wonwoo's open door and asks, “Why is Jeonghan crying on the rug listening to Coldplay?”

“ _Coldplay_?”

“Yeah. I reckon he's gone proper mental,” Minghao comments. “You better console him before he moves onto Oasis, then you've lost him forever.”

“Right. Yeah, fuck, thanks.”

**8**

It's a horrid January morning, minus degrees and completely pouring it down. Minghao wakes up strangely early, since he's way too used to waking up at eleven or later, and sits by the living room window as he watches droplets trickle down the grimy glass. The city looks distant and grey, all blocks of flats with soulless students shuffling about inside and towers of offices where miserable suits count the hours until they can get drunk again. 

He runs his bare nails, clear of polish, across the glass and traces a love heart in the condensation. Instinctively, he writes the letters J and M inside. A second later, he uses his palm to rub it out completely. 

Mingyu wakes up ten minutes later. He shuffles into the living room, bleary-eyed, and asks, “How long have you been awake for? It's hardly even light yet.”

“About an hour,” he answers. “We should go out for breakfast.”

“I don't have any money.”

“Then I'll pay,” Minghao says, quickly. “Now. Let's go.”

“Why? I can wake up Jun if you want -”

He shakes his head. “No. Just us.”

“Why? Are you in love with me?”

“No,” he sighs. “Don't you get it?”

“Get what? Minghao, are you okay?”

“No, not really,” he snaps. “Not at all.”

“Tell me -”

“Forget it,” Minghao says, dismissively. He grabs his jacket and his keys. “Fuck this.”

Mingyu is left stunned silent. He stands there for what seems like an hour, the apartment still vibrating from how aggressively Minghao slammed the door shut behind him. 

**9**

Mingyu tells Junhui that Minghao said he was visiting his friend in Cardiff. “He would've left a note,” he explains, “but it was an emergency. Plus, he had no credit. I guess it's lucky that I was awake, right?”

The saddest part is, Junhui believes him. They head out to a dive bar, much to Wonwoo's dismay, with Jeonghan in tow. Neither Seungcheol nor Minghao come up in conversation after that point, which is relieving, but Mingyu feels weighed down with the guilt of not being completely honest about what happened that morning. He drinks too much. They all do, save for Wonwoo, and it's really a mess.

Junhui is happy. Silently, Mingyu hopes that wherever he is, Minghao is too. He’ll come to his senses eventually, right? Maybe he'll be watching hentai on the TV when they get home or something and he'll laugh at them for being dumb while they're shit-faced. Mingyu knows it's more than that, though. He curses Minghao for being so goddamn impulsive.

Jeonghan starts gagging, so they direct him to the toilets before he vomits on his own shoes and hold his hair back as he hacks up chunks of puke. Wonwoo looks like he's about to cry. Mingyu rests his head on the stall door, sweat cooling down in the cool bathroom, and Junhui lights a cigarette.

Whenever Jeonghan tries to open his mouth to say he's okay, he vomits more. Wonwoo strokes his back softly. 

“Wonwoo, how far away is Cardiff?” Junhui asks.

“A few hours. Why?” Wonwoo asks.

“That's where Minghao went. To see his friend.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo hums. “Great.”

When they get home, Minghao isn't there. Jeonghan passes out on their rug. Shoo stares down at his intoxicated state disdainfully. Junhui follows suit, collapsing into bed and falling asleep fully dressed in jeans and a shirt. Wonwoo practically grabs Mingyu by the ear and whispers to him, in the bathroom again, “You're a horrible fucking liar.”

“I didn't want to upset him,” Mingyu hisses back. “How do _you_ know?”

“Junhui and you might sleep like the fucking dead, but someone slamming the door shut like the fucking Hulk tends to stir me,” Wonwoo snaps, quietly. “You had an argument.”

“No, we didn't,” Mingyu says, defensively. “He asked me if I wanted breakfast, then he got pissed off all of a sudden and stormed out saying that I didn't understand. C’mon. You think I did this?”

Wonwoo sighs. “No, of course not,” he mumbles. He walks off, trying to rationalise the information he just received and not worry endlessly about Minghao in the process.

**10**

“Do you wonder what would happen if you died, Cheol? How people would feel?” Minghao asks. He's wearing a thin t-shirt, definitely not enough for the cold weather, and twirling around on the balcony of his apartment. 

“Do you?” Seungcheol asks. He wraps his arms around Minghao to stop him from spinning himself into dizziness. He presses a kiss to Minghao’s hair, his chest pressed against the younger’s back.

“No,” he says. “Would you hate me if I said I don't love you?”

“...You've changed.”

“Maybe,” he laughs. He clings onto the balcony bars, the hair whipping his black hair back and forth. “I lied about you.”

“To me?”

“No, but...Yeah, both. I lied to you and about you.”

“Well,” Seungcheol sighs. The glass doors behind him slam shut with the wind violently blowing against them. “Okay. You don't love me, and you're a liar.”

“Essentially.”

“Well.”

Minghao smiles sadly. “You were my first boyfriend,” he explains. “And I love you, I really do, but not like that. I said horrible shit about you for no reason when you upset me. I cheated on you, but you said it was okay if it wasn't emotional. And it was. And you love Jeonghan, not me, and that's okay.”

“Who?”

“Who am I in love with?” Minghao repeats. Seungcheol nods. “This guy called Jun. He's friends with Wonwoo and Mingyu. I fell in love with him.”

“He's changed you,” Seungcheol observes. He traces his thumb across Minghao's pale cheek. “He's changed you, and that's why you don't love me?”

“No. No, not at all.”

“Then what?” Seungcheol demands. “For fuck’s sake!”

“You don't love me, so I don't know why you're upset!”

“I do!” he lies. Well. He’s not _strictly_ lying. “Jeonghan is -”

Minghao feels like he's on the edge of tears. “Why are we lying to each other?”

“Because I can love both of you -”

“You can't,” Minghao deadpans. “You can't. No, don't even say that. Jeonghan loves you. Start fucking showing him that you love him.”

“I want _you_ -”

“No!” Minghao shouts. He rarely gets angry, but Seungcheol just doesn't grasp what's happening. “No! Just fucking love Jeonghan! I don't care!”

Seungcheol hits Minghao straight across the cheekbone. Minghao strikes him back.

“You can't want us both,” Minghao whispers. “You can't.”

“I can, and I _do_. You're the one who fucked this up, falling in love with Junhui!”

“I hate you,” he says.

**11**

“Seungcheol's on the phone,” Mingyu says, cheerily. He hands it over to Jeonghan, who seems _way_ too excited for his own good over some guy. 

Jeonghan presses the landline to his ear. He listens, swallows, and then leaves the apartment without any explanation. He doesn't even hang up on Seungcheol.

“Um,” Junhui says, pausing from cutting a green onion. “What was that?”

**12**

When Jeonghan arrives, the apartment is eerily quiet. In the distance, as he edges closer to the bathroom, he hears the sound of quiet gagging and immediately blanks.

“Seungcheol,” he whispers. He cracks the door open to the bathroom to see Minghao’s skinny body bent over the toilet, Seungcheol’s fingers down his throat as he gags up a mess of blood, spit, and chunky, undissolved white tablets. “Oh, _fuck_.”

Minghao is drowsy, but conscious enough to cry - he isn't making much noise, just low sniffling, but his face is wet with tears as he leans on the toilet bowl. Seungcheol has been crying, too. That much is obvious. The bath is full to the brim with overflowing water. His jeans are soaking wet.

The ambulance arrives a few minutes later. Jeonghan knows he should call Wonwoo, but his heart is frozen and he's clinging onto a very damp, very upset Seungcheol as Minghao is wrapped in a towel by a paramedic. He looks gaunt, sick. 

“Please tell me I did the right thing,” Seungcheol mutters, “by making him vomit.”

The paramedic says, “Yes, you did. You're very brave, both of you.”

Jeonghan does not _feel_ brave. He grasps onto Seungcheol's hand and does not let go until the ambulance arrives at the hospital.

**12.5**

“When we have sex, I feel like our hearts sync up,” Junhui murmurs. Minghao stares up at him with wide eyes, staring for a moment until he proceeds to laugh loudly. “No, genuinely, I do. Like, you're here and I'm here, together, and our hearts, like, _know_.”

“Do they?” Minghao laughs. “It's not exactly the most romantic of settings when you have your dick in me, y'know?”

Junhui presses a gentle kiss to the tip of Minghao’s nose. “Well, that's because _you_ -” He presses the tip of his finger to Minghao's bare chest. “ - have never been made love to. Sex is just sex, sure, but when there's love there, it's a million times more special.”

“And here? Is there love?”

“Well,” he says, softly. “I love you.”

Minghao’s breath catches in his throat.

**13**

Hospital waiting rooms are really eery. They're either too quiet or too noisy, full of sobbing couples and weeping children and the stench of death just leaking through. Other times, there's nothing at all. Dead silence. Silence is not just an absence of sound - it's an absence of life. If you are to close your eyes in such a moment, it is like an artificial death.

Junhui is all cried out. He feels like somebody's squeezed every last tear out of him, left him dry and empty and unable to adequately express how distressed and scared he is on the inside. Jeonghan cried, too. He couldn't stop.

Junhui knows that Jeonghan blames himself. Well, _he_ blames himself. It's all a question of blame, isn't it? Who did more damage? Who hurt Minghao to such a point -

But the unanimous decision, apparently, is one where the blame falls upon Seungcheol. Junhui can't quite comprehend that, though. It doesn't make sense. He seems to be trying, like they all are, and somebody who wanted Minghao to - well, he wouldn’t be so kind, would he? Why break his heart and then try to fix it immediately after?

They all sit in heavy silence. Junhui sips at his coffee. He thinks about the hurry they left in, how all of the cooking was left abandoned, and how that instinctual wave of fear and panic hit him like a tsunami. He was expecting Minghao to walk through that door, say he had a good time visiting his friend, and then they would have a nice meal of Minghao’s favourite dish and play happy families. 

Junhui finds out rather quickly that he hates coffee.

“He will be okay, Junnie,” Wonwoo insists, squeezing his hand and using the voice that sounds like a parent explaining to their child how their pet dog has gone to heaven. Sorrowful. Weak, but disillusioned enough to compose himself. “It's nobody's fault. Not yours, especially.”

“Okay,” Junhui says, but he doesn't believe it himself. 

Jeonghan excuses himself to the bathroom in a fit of tears. Seungcheol follows lamely after.

“Jeonghan is,” Wonwoo whispers, “never going to forgive himself. I can tell.”

“Why?” Mingyu asks, softly. He squeezes Junhui's other hand when he puts his coffee down. 

“He and Cheol have a difficult relationship,” Wonwoo explains. “Cheol and Hao - I didn't know. But I do now, I suppose. I can fathom a guess and say that Jeonghan probably thinks this is because of him.”

“It's not,” Junhui mutters, his voice cracking. “I just want him to be okay.”

**14**

“What was the first thing Minghao ever said to you?” Wonwoo asks. “He said that he liked the mole on the back of my neck, and that during class, because I sat in front of him, it was the only thing he looked at.”

“He said that I had the most beautiful eyes,” Junhui laughs. 

“Oh, shut up! He said that you were a Kim Heechul lookalike,” Mingyu chuckles, “and, for some reason, that made him want to suck your dick.”

“I was trying to be _romantic_ ,” sighs Jun.

**15**

Minghao is sat up, drinking from a cup of water, when they walk in. 

“Oh, thank _fuck_. Have you brought in my contraband?” Minghao exclaims. His eyes are brights, but his legs and arms look quite brittle and viable to break into a thousand pieces. His skin is paler than usual, and it's totally strange to see him without any piercings and a completely bare face. He looks _young_. Junhui swallows. 

Nobody says anything. Junhui walks over to him and presses a kohl pencil into his hand, trying to dissuade his bottom lip from wobbling weakly. 

“Hopefully, this will make me feel more human. Jun -”

Junhui collapses, his head pressed heavily into the centre of Minghao's chest as he cries. “It's okay,” he says, although he's not sure if this dynamic is working correctly. He strokes Jun's hair with shaky hands and pretends, for just a moment, that they are the only two people in the world. “It's okay, Jun.”

Sniffling, Junhui raises his head to reveal bloodshot eyes and a shy smile. “You’ve never spoken to me in Chinese before,” he responds. 

“I know. I'm shit at it. I barely passed my GCSE in it,” he laughs, softly. “...I didn't want to die, not really.” The air feels cold and sombre. “I don't know. I let Seungcheol make me vomit because - because - because just about when I thought I was really going to die, I realised that I _love_ you, and that I just - I just don't know what I was thinking.”

“You won't…” Junhui says, words trailing off into nothing. “You won't do it again?”

“No. No, I -” He swallows. “I won't.”

“I love you so fucking much,” Junhui blurts out. “Ever since I met you. I didn't even _think_ it was possible to love somebody so much. You're my everything. I love you, Minghao Xu, and I would do _anything_ for you.”

“I love you too,” he giggles, “Junhui Wen.”

“Can you answer this one question?”

“Yes,” he says. “I'll try.”

“What is...What is the deal with you and Seungcheol?”

Minghao’s breath seems to halt. “I - I - _fuck_. I loved him, and now I don't. That's all that matters, right? We weren't good for each other. He made me cry and I made him angry. I slept with anybody and everybody to fill that void. He hated that I didn't love him, even though I did, and then he got drunk and we fought and he fell in love with somebody else.” Minghao sighs. “And I know it's stupid, Jun. We both fell in love with different people, but he wanted to make it work - and it's fucked up, but it's his fault as much as it's mine.”

“Okay,” Junhui says. “But you don't -”

“It's _you_ , Jun. Don't you see? I don't want anybody else. I don't need anybody else. Just you,” he chokes. “I love you.”

**16**

“They've put me on some kind of therapy program,” Minghao explains, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his ripped jeans. His long, striped sleeves hide the band that the staff stuck on his wrist. Seungcheol bites his lip and Jeonghan can barely even look him in the eye. “It's whatever. Therapy's for fuckin’ nerds.”

“Don't say that,” Junhui says. “It'll be good. And this -” He eyes Seungcheol. “ - _this_ has to end. Nobody's blaming you or Jeonghan. Both of you need to just work out how to be friends. Or not. Whatever you want.”

“I want to be your friend, Seungcheol,” Minghao answers. “I want to get to know you again. And Jeonghan! We've barely even met.” He sticks out a skinny hand and laughs as he says, a little awkwardly, “Minghao Xu. Nice to meet you.”

“Jeonghan Yoon,” he says, softly, shaking his hand. 

Minghao shuffles towards Seungcheol. “Minghao Xu. And you?”

“Seungcheol Choi,” he answers. “It's very nice to meet you.”

**17**

After that, things change. For the better.

The air feels clear. As winter melts into spring, the sun brightens in the sky, things get easier. Minghao starts working shifts at Waitrose, which he still sniffs at, and Junhui joins Jeonghan at McDonald's, which is as shitty as it sounds. It's better than nothing, though, and Junhui's learning - with Minghao - to be more appreciative of things that are better than nothing. So what if McDonald's is gross and doesn't pay well, right? Free hamburgers for lunch!

Minghao doesn't stop being a goth. Or whatever he was, actually. Some kind of mix between every style and subculture possible, maybe? He still wears red lipstick and laughs when it smudges all over Junhui's cheeks. He buys fancy underwear and throws a funeral for it when it rips. He starts wearing Junhui's old t-shirts and persuades Junhui to shave his legs and wear a pair or fishnets. He thinks they're sexy.

Jihoon forces them to clean up their apartment, which is kind of awful at the time, and makes them peel the Shoo poster off the wall. Besides, BoA seems to fit the vibe of the apartment much more. They throw ideas about and then settle on another Jaejoong poster and, for old time's sake, one of a particularly saucy photo of Heechul. It's cute. 

Wonwoo stops being the resident therapist. Jeonghan stops crying, which helps. Seungcheol sells his apartment, saying it's full of bad memories, which is true. They adopt the Shoo poster. Moreover, though, it all comes into fruition when Soonyoung brings over an ounce as a housewarming gift and Mingyu and Wonwoo get so high that Mingyu tries to get naked _again_. 

When they leave the room, Junhui shouts, “Do you need the numbing condoms for your faulty cock?”

“My cock is perfectly fine, thank you!” he shouts back.

Things are better, but nobody ever said they were _different_.


End file.
